tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76281286930692795632014-10-04T22:26:52.059-07:00Letters from SullivanThings from the heart, troubles from real life, and the passion to endure it all for love... Letters From Sullivan chronicles one woman's journey through an unconventional life.The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-41475294576480463052010-09-02T16:34:00.000-07:002010-09-02T16:37:21.700-07:00Check out my new BlogMy Partner and I have started a new blog: Critical Consumers<br /><br />So I will be retiring Letters from Sullivan.<br /><br />Check us out:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.criticalconsumers.blogspot.com/">www.criticalconsumers.blogspot.com</a><br /><br />We're not quite up and running just yet - but check back soon for updates on all <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">the</span> nifty products and services we buy and how we rate them!!The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-49534312471089930322009-09-18T16:16:00.001-07:002009-09-18T16:32:34.571-07:00Hello form Richmond, VADear Reader,<br /><br />I'm writing to you this evening from a cozy little chair in the Richmond International Airport. I flew in on Wednesday night for business, but i have to admit that the last few days have felt like this trip was for pleasure. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">I've</span> been gifted with the opportunity to work with a team of individuals that truly know the meaning of kindness and respect. It has been a wonderful experience.<br /><br />As you may know, Los Angeles is my home and i have often said i would never live anywhere else. But i have to admit that there are other parts of the world that are quite lovely too. For example, i love the serenity of the abundant foliage in Richmond. The highways (not freeways) are gorgeously adorned and the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">architecture</span> of the beautiful homes is plain old breath-taking. The only thing i regret is not being able to enjoy this place with my wife. Maybe on one of my next trips.<br /><br />Speaking of my beautiful wife... i often wondered, before getting married, what it would be like to share a bed with someone permanently. i thought <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">I'd</span> get tired of it, hate it, and ask for nights to myself, where i <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">could</span> sprawl out like a starfish and enjoy the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">spaciousness</span>. But i must admit, we've been living together for 9 months now, and on my 3-day trip away from home, it's been so difficult to sleep without her. i find myself curling up on "my side" of the bed, cuddling a pillow, wishing it was her. I no longer know what it means to sleep alone and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">I'm</span> not sure i like it anymore either!<br /><br /><div align="left">Despite how lovely this trip has been, i can't wait to get back home, to hold her in my arms again and tell her she's my # 1, my only one. We've been through so much in the last year, and i honestly believe we have so much to cherish because of it. I am grateful, every day, for every moment we get to share. She is everything to me and i am so proud of the wonderful woman she is. This month we accomplished so much. We went out to dinner with her aunt and uncle, and for the first time ever, they saw her for the intelligent and accomplished woman that she is. And for the first time ever, my parents <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">acknowledged</span> her as my other half, and invited her over to spend time with them while i was away. She inspires me every day to be better and better, in spite of all <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">the</span> challenges i face, whether they're just in my head or they're real. Let's admit, i tend to be a worry wart even in the most unnecessary circumstances. And somehow, only she knows how to calm me down again. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">As for Mr. And Lady Capulet... they still hate me. They are still praying on a daily basis that something terrible will happen to me. so i ask you please, to pray that nothing terrible will happen and that i will be healthy enough to live a long life... one in which i will be able to make my lovely wife as happy as she makes me every day! </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Making a difference in the world one person at a time,</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">--Sullivan</span></em></strong> </div>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-77509001153229905942009-09-14T09:31:00.000-07:002009-09-14T09:56:00.670-07:00Must write<span style="color:#330000;">Dear Readers,</span><br /><span style="color:#330000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#330000;">I've been out of touch for too long. And I fear I may be losing my craft to the hustle and bustle of life. So instead of letting it sweep me away, I'm going to share it with you. </span><br /><span style="color:#330000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#330000;">Much has come of us since my chronicles of last summer. By September of 2008, I had lost 30 lbs, I had lost the will to get up in the morning, and i had lost all hope of ever recovering from having to cancel my wedding. I'm happy to report that a year later, the tables have turned quite differently. </span><br /><span style="color:#330000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#330000;">Through the fall and winter, after our great summer of love disaster, slowly but surely, each and every family member began to hear about the wedding that never was. Rather than express great shock over the fact that my partner and I were together, most were shocked that we would have the audacity to get married, or otherwise that we had the audacity not to invite them! With every unveiling of our little drama, we told our story, from our perspective, and before we knew it, we found a bit more than just tolerance on our side. </span><br /><span style="color:#330000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#330000;">In March, we finally ventured off together again, and put on a great production. I wrote down our little drama in a script and transformed it into a performance as part of my thesis project. We each played ourselves and were accompanied by gracious volunteers from the CSUN Performance Ensemble on stage. 5 years after our last major stage production, my Juliet and I were back in the spotlight. Only this time, we didn't make an appearance for a grand bow at the end of the show. We were in the spotlight for the whole show. We packed a little theatre classroom with 100 people and re-enacted everything, down to the "post-it wedding"-like exchange of vows that aired on Gray's Anatomy last season. </span><br /><span style="color:#330000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#330000;">Secretly, it was our way of getting everyone we know and love in the same room, and for a minute, to profess our undying love and commitment to one another in front of all of them. We may not have had our elegant and perfect wedding, but we had our moment, whether we were doing it as Thelma and Louise, Samantha and Carrie, or Sullivan and Juliet. The names didn't matter. In that moment, it was just us. </span><br /><span style="color:#330000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#330000;">Evil Aunt Maggie continues to be her horrid self. She still harbors feelings of anger and betrayal toward my nuclear family. Though i try every day to put myself in her shoes and understand her, i just don't see why she's still angry. I don't really see why she was ever angry. Still, every day i try with great efforts to make amends, to mend the sutures that so many blame on our love. </span><br /><span style="color:#330000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#330000;">My grandmother says I've inherited the family duty - to keep everyone together. It seems i have. Family is that thing we don't ever really get to choose. And it bothers me that we are often made to feel like we wish we could have chosen someone else. I often wish i could have chosen someone other than Evil Aunt Maggie. She's left a distaste in my soul. </span><br /><span style="color:#330000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#330000;">As for Lady and Mr. Capulet... even they are growing, while Evil Aunt Maggie continues to fester. We are not yet at that point where we can have Sunday brunch with the Capulets. But then again, i don't know if i ever want to be at that point. For now, at least they're not trying to kill me anymore. :) </span><br /><span style="color:#330000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#330000;">More updates on our saga of love,</span><br /><span style="color:#330000;"></span><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">--Sullivan</span></em></strong>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-30377925302433140972009-06-24T09:43:00.000-07:002009-06-24T09:45:51.710-07:00Hello AgainDearest readers,<br /><br />It's been too long since I last posted.<br /><br />I'm trying to get back into blogging.<br /><br />More soon,<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">-- Sullivan</span>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-46831093917567600122008-10-29T08:21:00.001-07:002008-10-29T08:25:53.799-07:00No on 8Dear Readers,<br /><br />A little shameless plug for me and the love of my life...<br /><br />Please see Red Stapler's blog post <a href="http://redstapler23.blogspot.com/">No on 8!</a><br /><br />As election day approaches, my Juliet and I will begin to voice ourselves in the name of all the human beings in this country that were ever discriminated against.<br /><br />It ends with Prop 8 - Californians, Vote <strong>NO</strong> on Proposition 8.<br /><br />Respectfully yours,<br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000066;">--Sullivan</span></em></strong>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-42248888381694240072008-09-30T15:14:00.000-07:002008-09-30T15:18:01.872-07:00For my JulietDearest Juliet,<br /><br />Because I was lucky enough to fall in love with you and find that you fell in love with me... because this song truly represents how lucky we are...<br /><br />For you. I love you!<br /><br /><object width="425" height="349"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vtX0eo4WjgY&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vtX0eo4WjgY&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x2b405b&color2=0x6b8ab6&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="349"></embed></object><br /><br />"Lucky" by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat<br /><br />Always yours,<br /><br /><em><strong><span style="color:#000099;">--Sullivan</span> </strong></em>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-87361402761630377072008-09-30T14:26:00.000-07:002008-10-01T10:08:49.271-07:00Time heals...Dear Readers,<br /><br />What's new? It's been the month from hell - picking up where we left off, making sense of the mess, looking over our shoulders, hiding under rocks, crying, cuddling, falling apart. Underneath the ruble, though is the truth: we love each other. We made a commitment to each other and here we are, making the most of it. It's not easy, but the reward is great: to see each other smile, to hold each other close, to breathe each other in, to calm each others nerves... to share a life.<br /><br />Thornton Wilder said it best in "Our Town" - <em>"people are meant to go through life two-by-two." </em>What's the point of it all if you don't have one special someone to share it with? A witness to your life... someone to chronicle your every tear, your every smile, your every fart - LOL - someone who's seen your movie too, listened to the soundtrack of your life and made it with you.<br />Throughout this trying time - I won't lie - I've fallen quite low. But I didn't realize how low i had gotten until last week, when I gave my lunch back to the porcelain monarch. It wasn't until that moment that i stopped ignoring the chest pain, the moths (not just butterflies) in my stomach, and realized I need help.<br /><br />I finally gave into the one thing i promised myself i would never give into: therapy. I would have sooner relinquished a limb than to have given into knowing that there was something i couldn't help myself with. But alas, when it gets to the point where you realize you just don't have the clarity to see what the solution is, you need to get help.<br /><br />I've lost 22 lbs in 3 weeks. It's not only amazing, it's unhealthy. I look better than I have in years, but i feel horrible. My body is broken, weak, and in pain all the time. The chest pain is still not gone, the weak stomach persists, and the palpitations are far from over. The little flutter in my heart comes and goes... but, at least I'm not shaking my leg all the time anymore.<br /><br />They say time heals... I hate that so much and yet it has proven to be so true... When i was 10, i lost my grandmother to time... and it took 3 years for me to recover. I'm hoping almost losing Juliet won't take 3 years... hopefully we can move on together, much sooner, but without rushing, without pressuring the people around us to change for us a minute sooner. They will come around; they just need time, like i needed time. To them, it's almost like they've lost us and coping is the hardest part. And to us... it's like we lost them and moving on is even harder.<br /><br />But... time will heal things...<br /><br />One song gets me through it: "Sa Jeunesse" By Charles Aznavour.<br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_Q3U0zINULg&amp;hl=" fs="1&amp;rel=" color1="0x2b405b&amp;color2=" border="1" width="425" height="349" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed><br /><br />The song is about our fleeting youth and reflecting on our lives. The song reminds me to make the most of every day and to keep up my chin in anticipation of the day when i have the epiphany Monsieur Aznavour had when he wrote this song. On that day, I want to have no regrets about the things I did in my youth... including these few months. His music helps me through it. And my Juliet's smile makes it all worth it.<br /><br />Wishing you the opportunity to know the love we share,<br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">--Sullivan</span></em></strong>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-77864647896876039002008-09-17T10:05:00.000-07:002008-09-30T14:25:56.934-07:00Cookie Cutter Mold<div>Dear Lady Capulet,<br /><br />My heart pains for you on a daily basis. On one hand, feelings of rage and hatred fill me. And on the other hand, I am so compassionate toward you. In my moments of compassion, i just want to go away and alleviate your pain. But my allegiance is not to you nor to my compassion for you. My loyalty is with your daughter. Leaving, would only hurt her, and I cannot bear to do that.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SOKZSNpGu9I/AAAAAAAAAEk/GpeHRYCZhLY/s1600-h/ginbdboy-b8-2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251928653646183378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SOKZSNpGu9I/AAAAAAAAAEk/GpeHRYCZhLY/s200/ginbdboy-b8-2.jpg" border="0" /></a>I realize you wish we could fit the cookie cutter mold you want us to fit in. For you, I wish the young Juliet was straight and in love with the perfect tall, dark and handsome man. For you, I wish our paths had never crossed, and that you would have never experienced the difference in life. But the fact is, that that's just not real. Like fairies don't fly around us, like the Easter Bunny doesn't bring us colorful eggs, and like Santa Claus doesn't come down your chimney, it's just not real that we would fit into your cookie cutter mold.<br /><br />We are different. We were born into and developed differently than the perfect image you have in your mind. By chance, we crossed paths, and fate keeps us together. While you may not approve, never accept, never embrace, i will always forgive you. I will love your daughter every day from now to eternity. I will protect her, I will care for her, and I will bring a smile to her face every day for the rest of our lives. This is a promise I make to you, Lady Capulet.<br /><br />With Love,<br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">--Sullivan</span></em></strong></div>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-5612352544524042292008-09-10T16:12:00.000-07:002008-09-10T16:25:32.292-07:00Let's Change the pace - My Biggest Critic<span style="color:#666666;">Dear Reader,<br /><br /></span><div></div><div><span style="color:#666666;">You might recognize that the over-zealous amongst us tend to be their own worst critics. But I have not ever been so fortunate to be hard on myself. Instead, I've had the pleasure of a lovely lady who has put me in my place - if yo will - every time i stepped out of it. </span></div><div><span style="color:#666666;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#666666;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SMhWrEiwK-I/AAAAAAAAAEU/iiJpzOOPdF8/s1600-h/PICT2956.JPG"><span style="color:#666666;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244537064026811362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SMhWrEiwK-I/AAAAAAAAAEU/iiJpzOOPdF8/s200/PICT2956.JPG" border="0" /></span></a>She is tactless in her ability to humble me. And yet, I am responsive. As raw as the form in which she tells me to get off my pedestal may be, I can see that she says it with love. I mean sure, there's no ignoring that there's a great deal of annoyance that she expresses when she tells me my ego has inflated. But if she didn't care about how others perceived me, she wouldn't care to goad me into bettering myself. </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#666666;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#666666;">On that note, if you should find that my previous post was oddly reminiscent of wining and complaining - please know that the fair Juliet has already pointed it out to me and that I will do my best to be better next time. It's simply part of human nature, nonetheless, that in a trying time, we inevitably want a shoulder to cry on. Perhaps those moments of vulnerability are left best in private. But I've always tried to be an open book, so forgive me, fair Juliet and dear readers, if I made my woe public for you today. </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#666666;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#666666;">I have a duty to you to keep my chin up and keep writing - so that I will. </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#666666;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#666666;">She inspires me every day to be better than I was yesterday... </span></div><div></div><br /><div><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">--Sullivan</span></em></strong> </div>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-6995430436277406522008-09-10T10:46:00.001-07:002008-09-10T11:22:03.322-07:00Dear God, Why?<span style="color:#000066;">Dear God,</span><br /><span style="color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000066;">Why did you give me the ability to see things, this vision which can be so empowering and so debilitating? Why did you allow me to see the beauty in things, in nature, in people? And by the same token, why did you give me the ability to see the pain, the hurt, and the evil?</span><br /><span style="color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000066;">I demand to know why you gave me the inevitable ability to see the good in everything! It has hurt me so much to strive to identify it, to call it out in people, and to be the one to move them into goodness. It has especially hurt me when others have perceived it as malice. </span><br /><span style="color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000066;">Why did you enable me to witness first-hand how much awfulness there is in the world? Could i not have been spared? For that matter couldn't so many of us have been spared the awfulness?</span><br /><span style="color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000066;">Why did you make me different? Why couldn't i have been normal? Normal would have been easy. Normal is what people are used to and people aren't used to homosexuals yet; not enough of them, anyway. In giving me this lens, in making me different, in giving me the ability to love so deeply you have given me the ability to see it all - these lenses which give me vision beyond the basic material elements in our reality. Being different has allowed me to see the cruelty in ignorance and the beauty in compassion. But why must i endure the difficulty as well? Do you not think that I would appreciate what I have if you did not challenge me?</span><br /><span style="color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000066;">Why did you send me the perfect woman - the perfect partner - my best friend, my lover, my wife - she would have been. Why did you bring me the person who notices when a new beauty mark shows up on my face? Did you know, she watches them to make sure they don't change in shape or size? She hides my white hairs from me, tucking them behind my ear, so that I won't notice that I'm aging - something which she knows i dread. In the dead cold of the early morning, she'll stick her arm into the shower, just to wash my back as I prepare for work, because she knows I cannot reach it myself. She'll bind a leather book for me, and ask me to marry her with it. She'll rearrange the stupid tables at the wedding location, just so that my stubborn need to have the three spotlight used is met. Even if it looks stupid, she'll buy the three tiny branches instead of the huge dried tree for the guest wishes/notes. She'll map it out on the white board for me, when i can't spacially visualize what she's talking about. And the best part of all is that every morning she wakes up with a smile. Every morning she wakes up thinking it's a fresh new day, with a positive outlook, and a warmth that breathes life into me. And yet you gave me all of this that comes with an immeasurably horrible baggage - a mother from hell. </span><br /><span style="color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000066;">Why did you condemn me with the lady Capulet herself? She wants to kill me. She wants to rip me to shreds. She would have brought a shotgun, she said. She's antagonized my mother, my father, my grandmother, me. She's officially pissed me off. And yet, in her feeble and evil mind, she thinks that all this antagonizing will move me to cooperate with her. Why have you given me this challenge to choose between my family's safety and the person who will love me and care for me for all of my days? Do you not even think about how much I love her, my Juliet? </span><br /><span style="color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000066;">My heart is breaking. Every day she calls me, angry that I have not visited. And every day I have to plead with her, begging her to understand that I have to be cautious if I want to live. And every day she returns my excuse with the assertion that her mother will not be moved into violence. And every other day the evil Lady Capulet strikes again, calling another family member, another member of the community. She vexes us and slanders us all. It is unnerving. But somehow, we will endure. </span><br /><span style="color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000066;">How will i endure the push and pull between the family that says "save us from this mad woman" and the delicate Juliet that begs me to save her from that same mad woman? Why have you given me this challenge? And what is the right answer? Where should my loyalty lie? My family argues that it should lie with my family and the rest of the world seems to tell me to save the love of my life. The sad truth is, my heart tells me to save both and I'm not sure i see the solution to that. Experts tell me it's not my responsibility to save either - that i need to worry about myself. But I've never been selfish. the most selfish thing I did was allow Juliet to love me and to love her back with just as much commitment and passion. </span><br /><span style="color:#000066;"></span><br /><span style="color:#000066;">Why God? Why?</span><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000066;">--Sullivan</span></em></strong>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-13441988453276349312008-09-09T09:16:00.000-07:002008-09-09T09:27:06.091-07:00She strikes again<span style="color:#990000;">Dear Reader,</span><br /><span style="color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#990000;">The Lady Capulet is quite relentless. Yesterday she paid a visit to the Montague grandmother. Once again she ranted on about how I brainwashed her daughter and switched her brain by being pushy and aggressive. Thankfully, my grandmother had the sense to explain to her that there is no way i could have convinced the fair Juliet to change her orientation. It amazes me, how in her simplicity, she is able to understand that. And yet, these oh so very complicated Capulets are puzzled beyond sense. </span><br /><span style="color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#990000;">The amount of slander going around is so thick and dense, we would need an industrial die cutter to get through it. some say I'm to blame, some say the Montagues are at fault, others say no one is to blame, and others say the Capulets are solely at fault. More than anything, the consensus seems to be that Juliet and I should part. But we love each other, and if anyone has ever felt the bond of love, then they would know, that no obstacle is too great, no anguish is too painful, no duress too imposing to keep two people apart when they love each other. Love is strong. it is so strong. Stronger than i know. </span><br /><span style="color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#990000;">Sometimes, in fleeting moments, I wish i never knew what love was. The old proverbial phrase comes to mind: "Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." Truly, sometimes i believe that if i had never known what love was, i could have never missed it. But would that have been a life worth living? I'm still thinking about that one...</span><br /><span style="color:#990000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#990000;">Pensive,</span><br /><span style="color:#990000;"></span><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">--Sullivan</span></em></strong>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-91339167431773698162008-09-04T15:15:00.000-07:002008-09-04T16:06:11.653-07:00Another Day, Another Battle<span style="color:#cc0000;">Dear Readers,</span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">The saga continues. Lady Capulet is relentless. She is going down her list of familiar and feeble family members, hoping to get through to someone, anyone who can influence me to "take my witchy clutches out of" her fair Juliet. Little does she know that the only witchy clutches in Juliet's vicinity are her own. </span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">First she cornered my mother, threatening to set a curse of black magic on our Montagues if this relationship did not end by the end of the year. Then she tried to scare me by leaving me a death threat voicemail. When that wasn't enough, she showed up at my parents' doorstep minutes after the voicemail, screaming yelling, and threatening to destroy our family, to hurt us all, and especially to kill me. When that wasn't sufficient, she elicited the help of her minion nephew, who is married to my father's sister. And much to our grave surprise, the once Montague, now Capulet traitor sided with her minion husband, called me a whore and told me to stay away from her kids. may i note, at this key moment in the development of this social crisis, that i never had any association with her children, except when she invited us over and i would say "hi," "bye," and play monopoly with them, which was a maximum of 2x a year. </span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">Needless to say, it did not stop there. The minion Nephew continued to try to harass me, my sister, fair Juliet, and our dear friend. But that's all documented in the police report, at this stage. And when all that did not suffice Lady Capulet, she proceeded to meet my father and antagonize Sir Montague. Luckily, he held his own, something i did not expect of him. He is an innocent and she is a malicious woman, trying to blame him for allowing our relationship to blossom in spite of the fact that homosexuality "is not natural," as she claims. But in fact, i have to argue, dear readers, that it is most natural in fact. But you don't need to take my word for it. Read on:</span><span style="color:#000099;"> </span><a onclick="return top.js.OpenExtLink(window,event,this)" href="http://blogs.webmd.com/sexual-health-sex-matters/2007/04/is-homosexuality-against-nature.html" target="_blank"><span style="color:#000099;">http://blogs.webmd.com/sexual-health-sex-matters/2007/04/is-homosexuality-against-nature.html</span></a><span style="color:#cc0000;"> </span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">What's next Lady Capulet? Who is next on your list of innocents to torture? When will you learn that only your minion nephew and his traitor wife will bow down to your feigned authority? The rest of us don't care about you, at all. And shame on you, for abandoning your child, for wrecking every chance of happiness she has ever had, because you could not allow anyone to love her more than you. You are selfish and greedy, and you know it. And what you do with all that negativity is try to project it on others. You have made me out to be the devil, calling me names and accusing me of things there is just no way i could have done. Gotten under you daughter's skin? Brainwashed her with flowers and candy? You are ludicrous! I merely treated her with respect and kindness, something which you clearly never knew how to afford her. It's no wonder she would rather be with me than with you. I offer her comfort, attention, support, help, tenderness, and humor. You offer her lectures, impositions, demands, oppression. </span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">Someday you will learn that your role in life was not to control but to learn how to accept the things that are better than you. I believe. I believe in you, despite all your malice. I believe that you will see the light, and that the anciently aged indomitable rocks around your hidden heart will crumble to reveal a softer side of you. I believe you will come to terms with the fact that your child deserve to be happy too, even if it doesn't fit the traitorous mold you had to endure. And if i have believed this in error, then you will suffer the consequences, not I. you will feel the loneliness and abandonment that comes with rejecting your child's choices, as your child has felt it from you. </span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">I pray for you at night, Lady Capulet. I pray not as you do - i do not wish you to turn into a snake, nor to leave us from this place. I pray that you will find peace in your heart and that you will prove to us all that there is a human inside of the monster you have shown us. </span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">A prayer for Lady Capulet - may her heart find peace. </span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><br /><span style="color:#cc0000;">With hope,</span><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">--Sullivan</span></em></strong>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-43763119093574582452008-09-02T15:31:00.000-07:002008-09-02T15:38:04.713-07:00Dear DadDear Dad,<br /><br />If you should someday stumble upon my blog, here is a letter I wrote you a year ago. It seems to resonate still today, as we are surviving this trying time together... Please read on when you have a moment to yourself.<br /><br /><<Dad,<br /><br />Last weekend you said something that hit very close to home for me. And I regret missing the opportunity to tell you that.<br />I don’t want to go through life knowing that you have no idea who I am. So, in an effort to avoid the Sunday morning teary-eyed conversation with my kids about how grandma and grandpa have no idea who I am, I am making a list for you.<br /><br />I am a believer. I believe in love and good intentions.<br />I am a dreamer. My dreams are boundless and possible. I am someone who makes my dreams come true.<br />I am a romantic.<br />I am calculated.<br />I am passionate.<br />I am ambitious.<br />I am compassionate.<br />I am in love.<br />I am a child at heart, not in mind.<br />I am a deep thinker.<br />I am a philosopher.<br />I am an observer.<br />I am stubborn.<br />I am passive aggressive.<br />I am a writer.<br />I am a public speaker.<br />I am emotional.<br />I am sentimental.<br />I am sensitive to others.<br />I am a true friend.<br />I am committed.<br />I am faithful.<br />I am tired.<br />I am missing the support.<br />I am hurting.<br />I am angry at the world.<br />I am proud of my family for trying to overcome their instincts to reject me for being different.<br />I am angry at my family for making me feel like they’re rejecting me and my partner as a unit.<br />I am hurting because I feel like my family wants to sweep me under a rug and hide me.<br />I am angry that my family is turning a blind eye to the happiest part of my life, the most fulfilling part that I’ve been dying to share with them.<br />I am disappointed that the world cares so much about interfering in my pursuit of happiness.<br />I am so much more disappointed that my culture/community is so consumed with disrupting my happiness because it doesn’t fit their mold.<br />I am sad that the role I’ve played to fit in has so deeply hidden the person I am.<br />I am lucky. I am lucky to love and lucky to be loved, unconventional as it may be.<br />I am loved by a sensitive, kind, gentle, giving, committed, loyal, and loving person.<br />I am not alone in the world, though sometimes it might feel like I am.<br />I am part of a whole couple.<br />I am respected by my peers.<br />I am admired for being true to myself.<br />I am revered for sticking to my principles: every action I take is out of love and kindness.<br />I am a believer in the fact that I only have one chance to live and that I’d better make the most of it before my short time runs out.<br />I am a leader. I can make people dream with me.<br />I am sad that I haven’t been able to make my family dream with me.<br />I am excited to know that I found someone who wants to dream with me every day for the rest of our lives.<br />I am reassured to know that I found someone who will take care of me when I am old and gray because they want to.<br />I am thankful to have found someone who respects my principles, my family, my goals, and my ambitions.<br />I am grateful to have a partner in life who pushes me to follow through on my goals till I have accomplished them.<br />I am appreciative of the fact that my partner encourages me to have faith in my family, no matter how angry I get.<br />I am glad to have a partner with good morals.<br />I am aware of the challenges that I have faced and the challenges I am willing to continue facing.<br />I am not oblivious to the fact that my partner’s family is no basket of fruits, to say the least.<br />I am confident that we can endure victoriously and overcome all the obstacles put in the path of our love.<br />I am in the process of figuring out how to fight a bully.<br />I am welcoming allies and recruits for the defense I am building against that bully.<br />I am building an army of courage inside of me to demand of the world the most ridiculous thing: the right to my happiness, as if it’s the world’s to give.<br />I am someone who makes my own happiness.<br />I am not an activist.<br />I am someone who makes lemonade out of lemons; damn good lemonade too.<br />I am not a thief.<br />I am not an extortionist.<br />I am not a cheater.<br />I am not promiscuous.<br />I am not confused.<br />I am not rushing into things.<br />I am not stupid or naïve.<br />I am not unreasonable.<br />I am not possessive.<br />I am not manipulative.<br />I am not trying to rush you.<br />I am impatient.<br />I am nervous about how you are feeling.<br />I am worried about you.<br />I am worried about you and me.<br />I am NOT selfish.<br />I am certain.<br />I am the owner of a huge ego.<br />I am humbled, nonetheless.<br />I am a person who builds lasting relationships. And I want to build a lasting relationship with my family; all I need is a little reassurance that I am not alone in this desire.<br />I am desperately wanting to share my life with my family.<br />I am in admiration of my father, the role model who has taught me to fight for what I believe in.<br />I am eager to keep my sister close to me; she’s all I’ve got in this life.<br />I am someone who always wanted to have a close bond with my mother.<br />I am working on building bonds.<br />I am educated; I know too much.<br />I am wise; life has made me this way despite my age.<br />I am a trooper; I have endured a lot of pain.<br />I am independent; I have bared my own cross.<br />I am a sister; I give rides to parties and school; I waste my day hanging out at the back of the same restaurant to make sure she’s safe; I take her to movies; I worry every second that she’s not holding my hand; I am proud of her.<br />I am a daughter; I have worn the dresses, grown my hair long, gotten good grades, been on TV, written a play, spoken at funerals, graduated early, gotten a prestigious job; I have understood my parents; I have never blamed my parents for anything; I have come home every night, called every day, and kept my paranoid mother in touch so she worries a second less; I have not done drugs; I did not come home pregnant and bare-footed; I did not sleep around; I remembered every birthday, holiday, and anniversary, not because I was obligated but because I love you; I kept the messiness of the truth away to spare you; and because I love you so much, now that I’ve found the person that matters, now that we’re getting ready to settle down, I want you to be a part of that.<br />I am going to make this work, with or without your support, because I have dreamt that I can, because I want to, and because I know I will be able to. I would just rather do it with you by my side, but that’s your choice to make.<br />I am asking my father to support me, please. <br />I am begging for tolerance, hoping for acceptance, and dreaming of some embrace.<br />I am praying my father will give my partner another chance, a chance worthy of more than just an awkward, fleeting handshake.<br />I am hoping that my father will show me I’m not alone in the world.<br />I am asking that despite all the pressures of the rest of the world – that world which could care less about when your back hurts, when you’re stressed at work, when you’re unfulfilled at work, when you’re emotionally lacking – that my daddy will help me now that I’m asking him to, because it hurts me when his back hurts, because I stress with him when he’s stressing, because I want to help him find self-fulfillment when he’s seeking it, because I want to love him when he’s lacking love, because I love him.<br /><br /> Dad,<br /><br />If ever there were anyone who would love you the most, it’s me. I know I’ve done a lousy job of showing it to you, especially in the last few years, but you have been my example, my role model, and my mentor. Everything I know and believe about decency, kindness, and love, I learned from you. And I would hope that at this time in my life, when I try to reach out to you for closeness, that you can look at me (although with some pain in your heart) and still be proud to see that while somewhat unconventional and challenging of the way the world is, I am decent, I am loving, and I am kind. And even if you never accept me for the choices I’ve made, I will always adore you for making me the wonderful person I know I am. I can never thank you enough for doing all the right things and instilling within me the values of family, responsibility, and love that guide me. As hard as this is, I know that someday you’ll stop hating me for the choices I made to be happy. I know this because we’re so alike. I’m sorry I put so much pressure on you to be the ideal dad. But honestly, it’s just that… that’s how highly I think of you. I never thought you were any less and it made me so angry when I saw you talk and act like you might not be the dad I know and need. And I should have never asked you to be something you’re not. But I’m a firm believer that it never hurts to ask. I need you to know that you are a phenomenal man, the best man I will ever know, and that I will love you, whether from a distance or close by, forever!<br /><br />No matter what you decide, I’ll die believing you wanted to pick me over society… so no matter what you decide, please don’t crush that belief; please.>><br /><br />Sigh,<br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#333399;">--Sullivan</span></em></strong>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-20866387848688610142008-09-02T15:29:00.001-07:002008-09-10T16:29:49.075-07:00What just happened?<span style="color:#333333;"><br /></span><div><span style="color:#333333;">Dearest Sympathetic Readers,<br /><br />I have been absent, planning a wedding, planning a life. I hope you can forgive me. But upon my return, i regret to inform you that I have no wedding bliss pictures, no honeymoon tales, and no overall smiles to share. I have, instead, the woe and sorrow of a tragedy to tell.<br /><br />It is with a very heavy heart that I write you this entry to announce that due to an unexpected turn of unfortunate events, the dream wedding we had so anticipated is off.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SMhYSwpK23I/AAAAAAAAAEc/d9KHJP6ZQXo/s1600-h/image35231.jpg"><span style="color:#333333;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244538845391412082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SMhYSwpK23I/AAAAAAAAAEc/d9KHJP6ZQXo/s200/image35231.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#333333;">On August 19th, 2008 at 9:30pm, my Juliet's mother claimed that one of our friends arrived at her doorstep with one of our wedding invitations and presented it to her. Immediately after that, i received a call on my cell phone from a blocked number and didn't answer it. Juliet, myself and a friend were convened at another friend's house when the call came in. The voicemail that was left was a death threat from a very familiar voice who was trying to deepen their tone to disguise themselves. It was uncannily reminiscent of the "Santa Claus" voice that Juliet's mom used to make at Christmas for the children. At Juliet's heed, we marched to the Glendale Police station and filed a report. Within minutes, the crazy woman was at my house harassing my parents. After several threats to kill us all and vex us with black magic, we had to make the grave decision to cancel the wedding and part ways, in an effort to spare our lives.<br /><br />Juliet and I love each other very much and are horribly devastated by the fact that we had to make this decision to protect the people we love.<br /><br />We thank you all for your support. We ask that you are patient with us while we learn to cope with the life change we are having to make. As soon as we figure things out and stop hurting quite as much, we will provide you with a follow up of what we are to do next.<br /><br />We do not know who gave the evil woman an invitation, nor are we certain that her allegation is true. We cannot imagine that anyone on on our guest list would have done that to us. But if it is true, alas, that person will have to live with themselves.<br /><br />Please do not judge us for the decision we had to make to survive. We never imagined this would get quite so bad. We have no way of knowing if her threats are imminent or not and cannot risk the lives of innocent family members based on a hunch.<br /><br />We just had to give each other up to spare each other's lives. This is very hard.<br /><br />With a heavy heart,</span><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">--Sullivan</span></em></strong></div>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-62798975398129379902008-06-30T22:07:00.000-07:002008-07-02T08:36:23.245-07:00How my Juliet proposed<span style="color:#000099;">Dear Mar and other interested readers, </span><div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">When it came to proposing to the die-hard romantic, my darling Juliet outdid me by far. You'd think it's important for the romantic of the two to have a magnificent proposal story. But in fact, it seems she gave the romantic the most memorable, knock-your-socks-off, romantic-est proposal ever!</span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGrivWa--zI/AAAAAAAAAC4/mjj-2-jqEJs/s1600-h/164098-Il_Fornaio-Coronado.jpg"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGri5PHo8NI/AAAAAAAAADA/QqWa8N6fU8Y/s1600-h/164098-Il_Fornaio-Coronado.jpg"><span style="color:#000099;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218232591201136850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGri5PHo8NI/AAAAAAAAADA/QqWa8N6fU8Y/s200/164098-Il_Fornaio-Coronado.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#000099;">Juliet and I had found a lovely "private" beach, as we called it. It was a 100-ft mini beach that the bay dumped into, overlooking Downtown San Diego. It was secretly nestled between Il Fornaio and a tented playhouse. Thinking we were the only ones ever to have discovered this secret spot, we walked down to our little private beach and people watched on our blue blanket. </span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">Being that it was the day of our anniversary, my Juliet presented me with an anniversary gift. It was rectangular in shape, wrapped in navy blue crushed velvet fabric, tied with a gold tassel, with a red rose hanging from it. When I unveiled the fabric, it was wrapped in white paper. As I tugged at the white paper, i discovered a blue, leather bound book, with my nick name embossed on the cover in silver leaf. The binding read "The Early Works." She had compiled all my poetry, short stories, and articles and had them published and leather bound. </span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">She made me flip through the pages, until I got to the point where the pages seemed to be stuck. At about the middle of the book was a page that included a very romantic inscription, at the bottom of which was a flap that read "Will you marry me?" When i lifted the flap, it revealed the engagement ring. She had a ring box built into the second half of the leather bound collection of everything I had written to date. Not to mention, the inscription leading to the flap made me cry, it was so cute. She not only eternalized my work, but made me a proposition I could not resist! Of course, I said "Yes!" And it was magical. </span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"><br />Loving her,</span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><div><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;"><br />--Sullivan</span></em></strong></div></div>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-1650735414338940132008-06-27T09:07:00.000-07:002008-07-01T19:24:29.804-07:00Plans A, B, C and D<span style="color:#000099;">Dear Super Des and other Readers,<br /><br />I thought it only fair, after sharing with you the actual proposal story, to share the runner up options which fell through.<br /><br /><strong>Plan A:</strong><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGrj3-01doI/AAAAAAAAADI/gdp6TbTOOAQ/s1600-h/eiffel-tower-paris-france.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218233669159057026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGrj3-01doI/AAAAAAAAADI/gdp6TbTOOAQ/s200/eiffel-tower-paris-france.jpg" border="0" /></a>Having been to the city of love/lights before, I could think of nothing better than to propose to my Juliet in France. She was graduating from college in June of 2007 and we had made plans to travel together for our 5th anniversary as a sort of double celebration. I kept pushing to go to Europe, thinking I could make it a most memorable trip.<br /><br />Planning in advance, i contacted a florist in Paris that was willing to make me a floral arrangement in the shape of an engagement ring, which would hold a ring box in the center of the "stone" part. My plan was to arrange for us to go to the Eiffel Tower on the day of our anniversary, in the early afternoon. Among the crowds, I would ask my Juliet to take a seat on the bench under the tower, and wait for me to buy the tickets to climb the lift of the tower. While she waited, florists would come by to deliver her little floral arrangements and greet her with "Bonne Anniversaire Mademoiselle" until the last arrangement would arrive (the ring arrangement). The ring box would have a little note inside that said "Will you marry me?" at which point i would approach, kneel, and present the ring.<br /><br /><strong>Plan B:</strong><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGrkVCNGS5I/AAAAAAAAADQ/menbQ-_dEuo/s1600-h/Picture+210.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218234168282336146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGrkVCNGS5I/AAAAAAAAADQ/menbQ-_dEuo/s200/Picture+210.jpg" border="0" /></a>My Juliet began suspecting that i wanted to propose to her and jested to me that i would do something corny like propose under the Eiffel Tower. So i quickly began to amend the plan.<br /><br />I contacted a friend who could arrange for a quartet to play along the banks of the Seine river, where the artists paint and sell. Once again set in Paris, I intended to take my Juliet to the banks of the Seine on the afternoon of our anniversary to have our portrait painted. While we "posed" I would arrange for the quartet to play the tango from Scent of a Woman (the song we danced to together when we were falling in love). Once again, I would have the floral scene play out as described above, at which point, I would once again kneel and ask.<br /><br /><strong>Plan C:</strong><br />George Bush and his ensemble ensured that the value of the dollar would drop, and it increasingly became nearly impossible to afford diamond rings and a lavish trip to France. So, i had to take the practical route.<br /><br />Coronado Island happens to be the place where we fell in love. We didn't know it at the time, but the minute we became a couple, we realized that Coronado Island was the magical place that did it for us. So why not pop the question there?<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGrlSDI-wyI/AAAAAAAAADg/eqBJyo8kUqY/s1600-h/25.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218235216505520930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGrlSDI-wyI/AAAAAAAAADg/eqBJyo8kUqY/s400/25.jpg" border="0" /></a>I made reservations for us to stay in the deluxe suite at the Crown City Inn. We would drive down the day before our anniversary, and spend a 4 day weekend in our special place. I could not think of a better idea, than to have an insta-engagement. So i devised a "super secret" email to our most intimate friends, inviting them to drive down on the day of our anniversary (Friday August 24th) to meet us for dinner at The Rhino Cafe. The Rhino was a sentimental restaurant for us, one we had visited every time we went down to the island. It was where we shared our first glass of wine. The plan was to have them all seated for dinner, waiting for us to arrive. When we would get there, they would yell "Surprise" as if they were throwing us a surprise anniversary party. Once the excitement had settled, i would make a speech or announcement and propose to my Juliet. Poof, the surprise anniversary party would instantly become and engagement party.<br /><br /><strong>Plan D:</strong><br />The jerks at the Rhino cafe refused to accommodate a party of 12. So instead i thought of the next most sentimental spot for us: The Lambs Players Theatre. Every time we visited the island, our ritual was to see a play at the Lambs Players Theatre and have dinner at The Rhino. I had asked a friend to make arrangements with the theatre to do the following:<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGrkqZPJ1FI/AAAAAAAAADY/EiXXTuEZWlc/s1600-h/photo-lambs-theatre.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218234535242224722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGrkqZPJ1FI/AAAAAAAAADY/EiXXTuEZWlc/s400/photo-lambs-theatre.jpg" border="0" /></a>I would take my Juliet for what she thought was a Friday matinee. We would be seated in the front row of the dark theatre, after which i would excuse myself to go to the restroom. Prior to our arrival, our guest list of friends would have been allowed to fill the seats of the theatre. So unbeknownst to my Juliet, our friends would have been sitting behind and all around her. In the meantime, the stage manager would have directed me to the back of the stage, so that i may make an appearance on the set. A light tech would have shined a spotlight on me, and a sound tech would have played a song i had prepared. I had made a medley of all of our songs, ending with Peter Gabriel's "Book of Love" which ends with the line "I want to give you wedding rings." I would come on stage, do a little pirouette to the medley, get down on one knee and propose. After she said "Yes," the house lights would go on, and the audience would applaud. Much to her surprise, my Juliet would find us surrounded by our friends. Dinner reservations were made such that we could all have an instant-engagement party immediately after at the Hotel Del Coronado.<br /><br /><strong>The history behind Plan E:</strong><br />About a month before the "big day" I sent out an email to all our friends, telling them the super secret surprise engagement details. One friend replied to the email and added that we should get together for dinner soon. As stupid as i am, i replied and copied in my Juliet to ask if she was in agreement over the dinner date schedule. Much to my stupidity, the previous chain of emails were included, and the surprise was spoiled. she had seen the details of the insta-engagement plans included in Plan C. So to throw her off, i told her i was so upset at the misfortune of her having found out about it, that i was cancelling the whole thing. In reality i proceeded to plan out Plan D. Well, feeling bad that i had gone through all the trouble and then cancelled, she sent out an email of her own, inviting all the same people to try to surprise me on her own! Before we knew it, we had each invited all the same people, to the same place, for different reasons. Well, we found each otter out, and simply planned a joint engagement dinner for the evening of our anniversary and had planned to each propose to each other when we felt it was right - we just had to make sure we did it before the engagement dinner part! haha!<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGrmlVTOCZI/AAAAAAAAADo/i4LrJVp-yOs/s1600-h/w01_hotel_del_coronado_palms_on_beach.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218236647309445522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGrmlVTOCZI/AAAAAAAAADo/i4LrJVp-yOs/s200/w01_hotel_del_coronado_palms_on_beach.jpg" border="0" /></a>So about half an hour before Plan D was supposed to take place, i found out that our guests were nowhere near the island yet. So i was willing to abandon the "audience" factor of my grand scheme and rushed to the theatre at 5:30 to make my grand performance for my Juliet. At 5:25 my friend called to tell me that the lady at the Theatre called her to tell her that they didn't have a light or sound tech available. Fine! I would abandon all that too. Finally, she called to say they simply wouldn't be able to accommodate us anymore. So, spontaneously out of options, I thought that the beach front at the Hotel Del Coronado was the other most sentimental spot for us. I immediately texted all our friends, urging them to rush over there. I parked the car in a loading zone, grabbed the blanket out of the back seat (which was luckily there) and dragged my Juliet by the hand to the beach where... you can read all about it in the previous post on Plan E!<br /><br />Still laughing about the fiasco,<br /><br />--<strong><em>Sullivan</em></strong></span>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-67244112959105150632008-06-26T11:11:00.000-07:002008-07-01T01:05:23.840-07:00How I proposed...<span style="color:#3333ff;">Dear readers,</span><br /><div><div><div><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#3333ff;">I am ashamed to admit that when the time came to do the most romantic thing in the world, all my world-class perfect proposal ideas fell to flame and all I was able to do is the following:</span></div><div><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#3333ff;">In a rushed Plan E, I texted everyone to meet us on the white-ish sands of the Hotel Del Coronado on August 24, 2007. We were wearing the same outfits we wore exactly 5 years ago, when in a completely unexpected moment, we kissed on August 24, 2002. </span><br /></div></div><div><div><span style="color:#3333ff;">We found 4 rows of white wedding chairs lined on the sand in preparation for a wedding rehearsal, and sat and waited for our audience to arrive. I laid down a blue fleece blanket on the sand, and the wind began to blow. My best friend, at the time, laid down her purse to keep the edges of the blanket from curling up. We each took off our shoes and lined the other corners and edges of the blanket. I took my Juliet by the hand and led her to the blanket. I gently got down on one knee and said:</span></div><div></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGPfMmWWZuI/AAAAAAAAACo/s_XIwJIQI50/s1600-h/GGuglxBMDbXbET3tt6sbqZoleETODLJ50300.jpg"></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGnk-yE1aJI/AAAAAAAAACw/oyrh9ArENi8/s1600-h/Proposing_blog.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217953410530502802" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SGnk-yE1aJI/AAAAAAAAACw/oyrh9ArENi8/s200/Proposing_blog.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><span style="color:#3333ff;">"In this unforgiving world,<br />We seek to find<br />A smile, a glimmer, a breath returned<br />To call home.<br /><br />And I - I’m lucky, because<br />Every time you smile back at me,<br />When I see that glimmer in your eyes,<br />When I feel you breathe…<br />I know I’m home.<br /><br />I want nothing more than to come home to you<br />Every day for the rest of my life.<br />So if you’d like to come home to me too...<br /><strong>Will you marry</strong> <strong>me?</strong>" </span></div><div><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span></div><div><br /><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">She said "<strong>Yes!</strong>" :) </span></div><div><span style="color:#3333ff;"></span></div><div><br /><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;">Still in love with my Juliet,</span></div><div></div><div><br />--<span style="color:#000099;"><strong><em>Sullivan</em></strong></span></div></div></div>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-65989006903078676382008-06-07T09:28:00.001-07:002008-06-07T09:43:10.443-07:00The Lord's Prayer in Armenian<span style="font-size:85%;">Dear Readers,<br /></span><div></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">On the off chance that any of you might want to learn how to recite the Lord's Prayer in Armenian, here it is transliterated in English for you below. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;">A Phonetic key:</span></strong></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">'i'-s have the long "eeeeeeee" sound below. 'tz'-s make the same sound you get in tsetse fly. 'gh' makes the same sound as the French 'r'. 'u'-s make the same uhhhhhhhh sound as in uncle. 'oo'-s make the same oooooooo sound as in "ooooooooo, ahhhhhhhhhh". And all 'r'-s must be rolled. "yoo" is pronounced like "you" with an 'n' or 't' tacked on depending on the word. 'o'-s alone make the long 'ooooooooo' sound as in oval. 'Ayl' is pronounced like aisle.<br /><br /><br /><strong>The Lords Prayer: Transliterate (English) - Hayr Mer (Our Father)</strong><br /></span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SEq509IHZXI/AAAAAAAAACY/rjGoxW_n6t0/s1600-h/G1498_end.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209180238420338034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 272px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 273px" height="260" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SEq509IHZXI/AAAAAAAAACY/rjGoxW_n6t0/s400/G1498_end.jpg" width="256" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Hayr mer vor hergins yes;<br />Soorp yeghitzi anoon ko.<br />Yegeghtze arkayootyoon ko;<br />Yeghitzin gamk ko;<br />Vorbes hergins yev hergri.<br />Uz-hatz mer hanabazort door mez aysor.<br />Yev togh mez uzbardis mer,<br />Vorbes yev menk toghoomk merotz bardabanantz.<br />Yev mi danir uzmez ee portzootyoon;<br />Ayl purgya uzmez ee chare.<br />Ziko e arkayootyoon yev zorootyoon yev park havidyans, havidenitz, Amen. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Yours,</span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;color:#000099;"><em><strong>--Sullivan</strong></em></span></div>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-13071777096244592342008-06-03T09:47:00.000-07:002008-09-04T09:22:15.252-07:00They just can't be happy for us!<span style="color:#3366ff;">Dear Reader,<br /></span><div></div><br /><div><span style="color:#3366ff;">My dearest and I did a lovely thing this memorial day. We spun a huge web of lies just to surprise my family in Orlando, FL while on their week-long DisneyWorld vacation. My father had been very upset </span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SEV6gzcL4bI/AAAAAAAAACI/1XL2zU5-8PY/s1600-h/20425489.jpg"><span style="color:#3366ff;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5207703248106676658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SEV6gzcL4bI/AAAAAAAAACI/1XL2zU5-8PY/s200/20425489.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="color:#3366ff;">that I wasn't joining them on this trip. They seem to have removed all thoughts from their minds that I have a significant other and that we are progressing towards settling down together. Needless to say, when I told them I was saving my vacation days for something else, they got mad at me. They don't know that "something else" is our honeymoon. But, to smooth things over, Juliet and I did what we had to do, spent too much money, and surprised them for the long weekend. They were ecstatic to see us. They were so happy to have us with them for a few days that nothing else mattered. We were away from home, away from all the burdens, and enjoying that imagination and sublimation of the happiest place on earth: DisneyWorld!</span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#3366ff;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#3366ff;">It was great and we came back without them. We had the house to ourselves for a week so Juliet told her parents she was away on a conference for a week and stayed with me instead. It was wonderful playing "house" and living together as we will be soon. And nothing was more awful than when we had to finally part. </span></div><div><span style="color:#3366ff;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#3366ff;">The last few days since my parents' return have been quite strange. I've been moody and she's been needy and in between us is our family. My folks have wanted to consume every minute of my time and so have Juliet's. They've driven her crazy at this point. And all the while, we struggle to get together for meals and share a couple of hours together. Unfortunately, spending that time at my house seems to be the worst thing, now that every one's back home. It was lovely while we were here alone, but now that we're back, my mother has started again with her heavy sighs and ugly faces. Juliet doesn't deserve that - and yet my mother can't stop hating her for being the one person to come in and ruin her complacent bull shit life! It makes me mad. We dine with our other friends at my house, and my parents praise their relationships and are overjoyed for them. And when they see my Juliet and I exchange a smile or a glance, they develop a look of disgust and follow it with those ugly sighs. Why can't they be happy for our affection too? </span></div><div><span style="color:#3366ff;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#3366ff;">What's worse is that I'm now officially poised in the position where I'm about to crush everything in every one's lives by taking this huge plunge. And as D day gets closer, i get more and more nervous. I don't know how i can do it - to ruin so many people. My parents will be shamed by the lady Capulet. My grandparents, who are friends with the Capulets, will have their social circle destroyed. Their monthly gatherings will officially crumble because of us. The community will be in an uproar. And as much as I'd like to care less about them, the Capulets will be ruined. All they have is their one daughter and i am ruining all their hopes and dreams because I'm a woman. My Montagues will never get along with them and I have no idea what we got ourselves into. </span></div><div><span style="color:#3366ff;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#3366ff;">I almost want to call it quits, run away, forget it all... but I can't! I adore her. I'm just not sure how I'm going to work out living with myself for the rest of my life, knowing i caused the heartache of so many people, albeit that they are narrow minded and un-accepting. This is the cross I bare, daily. And yet, I can't take it anymore; I can't stand not living together anymore. I'm ready to start my life. But what's the solution? How do I get around the mess? What do I do? </span></div><div><span style="color:#3366ff;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#3366ff;">Readers, please comment with some suggestions. I'm losing my mind in this conflict between martyrdom and doing something for myself for a change! </span></div><div><span style="color:#3366ff;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#3366ff;">Nervous and Confused, </span></div><div><span style="color:#3366ff;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">--</span><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">Sullivan</span></em></strong></div><br /><div></div>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-46890935417531844602008-05-28T07:58:00.000-07:002008-05-28T08:00:38.624-07:00Sorry for not postingDearest readers,<br /><br />After final examinations, I took a week to get everything else in life sorted out, and then we took a short trip to the east coast to surprise my parents in Disney World. So the traveling and the business of life has kept me from posting on the blog. But rest assured, I'll be back in business soon, following up on my last post about The Alcove.<br /><br />More Soon,<br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">--<strong><em>Sullivan</em></strong></span>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-90414866112621878702008-05-16T10:28:00.000-07:002008-05-16T10:52:00.719-07:00To the mystery woman from the Alcove<span style="color:#cc6600;">Dear Lady,<br /></span><div></div><br /><div><span style="color:#cc6600;">Should you happen to find my blog online, please know that your note of distress has fallen into caring hands.</span> </div><div></div><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SC3G_wvM73I/AAAAAAAAACA/DgDqfesYUyU/s1600-h/alcovecafe1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5201031943399731058" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SC3G_wvM73I/AAAAAAAAACA/DgDqfesYUyU/s400/alcovecafe1.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#cc6600;">Wednesday night, I found myself hopelessly muddled, sifting through pages of notes and textbook conundrums, studying for a final exam in my Communication Theory Seminar. I was sitting in the back room of the Alcove, in the Los Feliz Village. I was waiting patiently for my turkey sandwich to arrive, when a page from my notes fell to the ground. My fiancee, kind as she is, leaned over to pick it up for me, and found your note written on the back of an old receipt. Your note read:</span></div><div><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#cc6600;"><em><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">"<span style="font-family:times new roman;">Life is far too mysterious at times. Unfortunately, my life is quite upside down at the moment. I'm sitting across a man who loves me for what i can be not for who I am... That's a tragedy. I'm in love with love... And I'm a mess."</span></span></strong></em></span></div><div><em><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:#cc6600;"></span></em></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#cc6600;">Please know that I took your note, and replaced it with a note myself. I took an old receipt out of my pocket, and shared with you the threshold of mystery I am currently facing. Should you care to share this moment, you can find my note on the floor, next to the two-person table located in the back room of the Alcove in Los Feliz - the table that is located next to the only plug - across from the bathrooms. </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#cc6600;">I am honored to have had a glimpse into such a mysterious moment in your life. I wish you luck and offer my empathy. Please stay true to who you are and do not sell yourself short. </span></div><div><span style="color:#cc6600;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#cc6600;">Good luck fair lady,</span></div><br /><div></div><div><span style="color:#000099;">--<strong><em>Sullivan</em></strong></span></div>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-867962665264811082008-05-13T08:53:00.000-07:002008-05-13T08:57:58.298-07:00Just a "heads-up"<strong>Loyal Readers,</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>My deepest apologies, but I am unable to keep up with posting this week. As I continue to pursue a higher education, obligatory things such as "Exams" seem to take the priority. </strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>More soon,</strong><br /><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">--Sullivan</span></em></strong>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-45037457778259274882008-05-08T08:47:00.000-07:002008-05-08T11:29:52.742-07:00What's the world coming to?<span style="color:#000099;">Hello my dear reader, </span><div></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">I'm stumbling on some thoughts of uncertainty this morning. And with all good intentions, I want to share them with you, but hope that you can find it in your heart not to judge me for them. </span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">Wednesday nights I have dinner with my great aunt and uncle in Thousand Oaks. They live out there, in the Nation's safest city, and I happen to work near by. So it's the least I can do to visit my beloved grandmother's brother once a week and keep them company for dinner. Of course, they treat me like a princess: my aunt cooks up a storm, my uncle picks <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">fresh</span> fruits for me from <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">the</span> back yard, they open a bottle of wine, and we chat over dinner. They don't even let me set the table or pick up after myself. They're so excited to have a visitor, that they'll do anything to make it worth my while. They don't even know how much it means to me to get to see them every week. He's all i really have left of my grandmother (besides my mom, obviously). But my grandmother and her brother were very close. They are so much the same person, it's uncanny! So i have my own vested interest in visiting. But they don't realize that i just genuinely love them... I'd visit even if dinner wasn't included...</span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">Needless to say, this post isn't so much about them. Rather, it's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">about</span> something my aunt - we'll call her Alice <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">in Wonderland</span> - had to say. Albeit that she is generally an optimistic person, last night she painted a very dark picture for me. She said she feared the economy was going to be at its worst and that people would be in complete chaos. She said she feared that a major catastrophe could <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">annihilate</span> our computer system, virtually <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">destroying</span> every ounce of technological progress that is controlled by computers right now. She said she feared that if we lost our computer technology systems, we would lose access to everything we take for granted: water, gas, electricity - because, as she fears it, it's true, computers manage the flow of our water, the rationing of our electricity and the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">distribution</span> of our gas. And it's not so much <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">that</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">I'm</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">afraid</span> that we won't have water, gas, or <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">electricity</span>, but that she might be onto something. </span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">What she said resonated with me a bit, as I've been worried about where life is going. The current stream of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">politics</span> is disheartening, as no one is passionate about what they're doing anymore. it's all feigned interest for the sake of capital gain. Yeah we have a female candidate and yes we have an "African American" candidate. But it doesn't really signify what it should. And regardless of the individual, the country is in bad shape and frankly, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">I'm</span> not confident that any of the candidates can save us from a disaster. </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;">Here's another thought: education. I'm a firm believer in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">the</span> power of knowledge and the need for education. But <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">I've</span> noticed a growing trend. Every new generation wants its children to get educated and to take office jobs. What happens if Alice in Wonderland is right and someday our technology goes to hell and office jobs are no longer in demand? Who will till the land and grow the crops and do <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">the</span> man labor if every <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">new</span> generation is being groomed for white collar uniforms? Immigrants? Didn't we all start out as immigrants somewhere down the chain of our ancestry? </span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">We've lost the value in having a trade. We master a subject area, get a million and one <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">degrees</span> to back <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">it up</span> and then... do nothing with it. We need to learn how to make things with our hands - things we need, not things we want. I say this because, likely just as you do, i take it for granted that there's an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Albertson's</span> two bocks away from me, where I can buy a box of fresh basil or a package of steak meat. I say this because <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">I' ve</span> never had to fish my own dinner or grow my own herbs - and i bet you've never had to either. I'm not talking about extreme camping trips either - you know, the ones you can get in your car and drive away from when you finally get hungry enough. No - I mean that down right necessity to survive! My generation has never felt it because everything is available to us on a PLATINUM PLATTER!<br /><br /></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198044819266035922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SCMqOQLpYNI/AAAAAAAAABk/CUnDiRWOiRE/s200/CBR003642.jpg" border="0" /> <div></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">I'm</span> not saying it's going to happen, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">I'm</span> not saying it's not... but someday we may have to re-invent the wheel for humanity and I would hate to be the one with a bunch of degrees under my belt and the incapacity to build a straw roof over my head. My new mission is to learn a trade that i can do with my hands. Call it my plan B. Anyone else in? </span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;">Pensively Yours,</span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><div><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">--Sullivan</span></em></strong></div>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-62201004205276689562008-05-07T11:06:00.000-07:002008-05-07T11:36:25.700-07:00The New Narcotic: FOOD!<span style="color:#000099;">Dear Reader,</span><br /><div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SCH1oALpYLI/AAAAAAAAABU/Mso6bc2AQSc/s1600-h/ts5020g1_fat.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197705512554684594" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SCH1oALpYLI/AAAAAAAAABU/Mso6bc2AQSc/s200/ts5020g1_fat.gif" border="0" /></a>I am confessing to you today about a secret addiction I have had all my life. I stayed away from the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">promiscuous</span> sex, the dumbing alcoholism, and the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">emphasematic</span> smoking, but I couldn't take my hands off food. I have eaten myself into oblivion and now I'm a pathetic fat blob.</span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">Have you ever seen the movie Super Size Me? I think it was stupid. It completely missed the point of helping people in America realize how <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">over</span> weight they've become. Sure we learned about how awful McDonald's food is if you eat it every day. But did that not teach us anything about the way we're eating?</span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">I can't help myself anymore. I love food. It's a self-<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">destructive</span> passion. I long for perfectly crusted potatoes Au Gratin and a tenderly grilled rib eye steak. All the while, my arteries are screaming in anticipation of the cholesterol attack they are about to receive. Of course, if I could, i would couple this <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">delectable</span> meal with a crisp salad and an ice-cold soda and call it a day well spent. And the morning after... well, let's just say the scale and I are not friends. </span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">The movement toward organic foods has begun to upset me. American foods have so many preservatives and trans fats in them that it has become virtually impossible to stay away from those <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">cardio</span>-killers without starting a new branch of food: organic. Does anyone remember the days when you actually <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">grew</span> your own herbs? My grandparents used to "hunt" their own meat? Now <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">adays</span> it comes to us perfectly packaged, color added, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">chemicals</span> and hormones disguised. And when we eat the organic foods, they taste weird to us. What ever happened to the natural flavor of foods?</span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SCH2EQLpYMI/AAAAAAAAABc/MB7HqQSYCvI/s1600-h/buffet.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197705997885989058" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SCH2EQLpYMI/AAAAAAAAABc/MB7HqQSYCvI/s200/buffet.jpg" border="0" /></a>Here's the problem: we have an over abundance of supply. Americans have the ability to consume, and they exercise that ability to its maximum capacity. Look at buffets for example. There is no logic reason why we need to display so much food. But we do it because we can and because a lavishly stocked table has come to mean luxury, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">opulence</span>, and greatness. All the while, the American people are growing in size. </span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">The Big and Tall-s and Lane Bryant-s of this world are enabling us even more. They're telling us it's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">ok</span> to be so fat that we don't fit into mainstream clothing anymore. I'm not by any means encouraging the promotion of the anorexia we see displayed on TV. But let's be realistic... it's not even a matter of aesthetics anymore. I have chest pains at 24. I don't want to know what's causing them. That's my own denial... </span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">What am I to do about this addiction? I love food. For me, it means reward, pleasure, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">opulence</span>, happiness. How to I change that association? Any suggestions? </span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;">Join me, if you will, in a quest to free ourselves of the bad habit of eating. We should eat just enough to survive. I'm preaching like a hypocrite...</span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;">Hoping to set a better example,</span></div><div><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="color:#000099;"><strong><em>--Sullivan</em></strong></span></div></div>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7628128693069279563.post-44075831601245702372008-05-06T14:03:00.000-07:002008-05-07T11:38:09.493-07:00Guess what I'm doing Right Now!?!<div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#006600;">Dear Reader,</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#006600;">I'm very happy to share with you that on my lunch break today, i took a little file folder, placed it on the grassy walkway between our buildings, sat down on it, and blogged. What a wonderful thing Air Cards are! Not the Verizon ones, though. </span><span style="color:#006600;">And may I add, that never has the grass looked greener and never have I been less terrified by bugs than in this very peaceful moment, when the freeway bustles to my right, the flag clanks in front of me, the wind blows behind me, and all I see are greens to my left. Life is good...</span><br /><br /></span><span style="color:#006600;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Please enjoy the view from where I'm sitting...</span><br /></span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SCDIt38gKPI/AAAAAAAAABM/U45AAqoM6m0/s1600-h/grass_by_conformity.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197374660422936818" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 272px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 93px" height="132" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jmcUfYKAdi4/SCDIt38gKPI/AAAAAAAAABM/U45AAqoM6m0/s200/grass_by_conformity.jpg" width="258" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="color:#006600;"></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;color:#006600;"><br />Yours,</span><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#000099;">--Sullivan</span></em></strong></div>The Poethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06355669081624003156noreply@blogger.com0